Sly Cooper And The Amnesiac Tag-Along
by That Was Real Subtle Bentley
Summary: Sly and the gang are ready to steal back the Thievius Raccoonus, except there's a slight complication. A young rabbit who can't even remember her own name shows up at the gang's secret hideout. Can the gang do their thieving while babysitting their amnesiac guest? And is she an innocent stranger, or does she have history, a past even she's not aware of, with Sly's adversaries?
1. The Police File

**The Cooper Residence, 1992.**

The young raccoon was excited. Today was the day he was going to inherit his family's precious book, the _Thievius Raccoonus_. Contained within its old and tattered pages were entries from many generations of thieves, detailing their adventures and any skills they discovered and perfected to aid their various schemes. Sylvester had heard story after story from his father, and he knew what the Cooper name stood for. The only thieving they did was from people who deserved it: corrupt individuals who earned their wealth by exploiting the poor and the unfortunate. After all, there was no fun, challenge, or honour stealing from the ordinary people who were already suffering as a result of the heinous actions of various crooks around the world; why would the Cooper family want to add to that?

At dinner, the excited raccoon cub wolfed his food down, buzzing at the prospect of finally getting his hands on the family treasure he had heard so much about. He had waited eight long years for this day, and couldn't believe it was finally here!

"Sylvester, slow down," his mother scolded. "You'll make yourself sick."

"Relax Ellie," his father laughed. "the boy's excited, and I don't blame him. I was exactly the same when I was his age." He looked over at his wife lovingly. "You can't keep worrying about him forever." He returned to his food, a piping hot lasagne, oozing with plenty of melted cheese. His wife's cooking was out of this world, he couldn't believe how lucky he was to be with a woman who accepted and embraced his family's thieving heritage. He hoped Sylvester would be as fortunate as he was in finding a partner to continue the Cooper line with, someone who would fully accept his family's heritage.

The young raccoon suddenly squeaked.

"What is it kiddo?" the man asked.

"I just remembered I drew a picture at school today!" The young raccoon beamed, before leaping down from his chair and scampering off out of the kitchen and down the hall to retrieve it from his bag. His parents watched his sudden departure, looked at each other, and laughed. Ellie looked over at her husband.

"I love you, Conner," she quietly whispered.

He reached out for her hand, and gently squeezed it. "I love you too." He then took out his pipe, filled it with tobacco, and lit it. He sucked on it a few times, savouring the burning sensation in his lungs.

The young raccoon quickly bounded back into the kitchen, a piece of paper in hand. "Look!" he yelled, waving it in front of his mother's face. She took the drawing from him and looked over it. It was a raccoon, clutching a large sack which was swung over his shoulder. The sack had 'LOOT' written across it in Sly's infant scrawl. The family's trademark cane was grasped in the raccoon's other hand. The raccoon was running away from crudely-drawn police officers, who were taking potshots at the raccoon thief. At the bottom right corner of the page, it was signed "Slyvester."

" _Slyvester_?" the mother queried, before handing it over to Conner.

"Oops..." the raccoon whimpered, his ears flattening against his head upon realising his spelling mistake.

"Slyvester..." Conner murmured, smoking his pipe. "Sly... Sly, that works nicely kiddo, rolls off the tongue."

"Can people call me Sly?" the raccoon chirped, ears pricked up in excitement.

"Absolutely," the man said, scooping up his son and placing him on his lap. "Sly Cooper, you are going to be the greatest thief the Cooper line has ever seen!" he said, tickling his son as he did so, the boy's giggling filling the kitchen.

His mother's warm smile suddenly fell. "Did you hear that?" Ellie suddenly asked, ears raised in alert.

"Hear what?" Conner replied, smile wiped from his face. Sly's laughter died quickly, and sat still on his father, unsure of what was happening.

"I heard a noise at the door."

"I didn't hear anything."

"I'm going to look." Ellie declared, before getting up and leaving the kitchen. Sly buried himself into his father, fearful of what was going to happen. His father reassuringly patted the boy's shoulder. Ellie darted back into the kitchen.

"Something wr-"

"Shh!" Ellie hissed. "Keep your voice down, there are people outside the house! I think they're trying to get in!"

Conner's eyes widened in panic. "How many?"

"I'm not sure, five?" Ellie's statement was answered by a sudden crash on the front door.

Conner lifted his son up as he stood from his chair, and handed him to his wife. "Take Sylvester and get out of here. I'll stop them." He dashed to the front door, where his trusty cane was sat in an umbrella stand. He slid it out of the stand, twirled it in his hand, and stepped back from the door, prepared for the intruders as they continued to bash down the door, the wood cracking with each blow.

Ellie knew there was no escape. She ran to a closet in the hallway, opened the door, and placed her son within.

"Sly, listen to me," she urged, tears flowing from her face. Accepting that this fight could end badly was difficult for the woman. The thought of never seeing her son again crushed her. "You're to stay in this closet until me or your father come to get you. You don't leave, and you don't make a sound until it's safe, okay?"

The young raccoon looked up at his mother with tears running from his eyes. He was terrified and wanted this nightmare to stop, now!

"Tell me you understand!" Ellie cried.

"I understand," Sly sniffled, wiping his nose with his hand. She gave her son a kiss on his head, before shutting the closet door. She looked at her husband, who had heard their exchange.

"Ellie, go!" the raccoon yelled.

"I'm not leaving you!"

"And I said go!" he screamed. The thought of Sly losing his mother was unbearable. He needed her to be safe so she could look after their son. "Sylvester needs you!"

Reluctantly, she retreated upstairs, into their bedroom, and locked the door behind her.

Suddenly, the front door burst open, splinters of wood flying everywhere. A large bulldog with huge, muscular arms and puny legs burst in, using his arms to move, like a gorilla. He swung a tree-trunk arm at Conner, which the raccoon nimbly dodged. Without thinking, the raccoon sprung up the bulldog's arm and brought his cane down on his head. The bulldog howled in pain and recoiled away from the raccoon.

A giant panda charged from behind the injured bulldog, and grabbed the raccoon by his throat with a large paw. Conner tried swinging his cane at the panda's head, but couldn't quite connect the blow. His swings started getting weaker, and weaker, until they stopped. The panda threw the raccoon into the floor, his cane tumbling behind him, landing on the wooden floorboards with a loud _clang_. His pipe, still smoking, clattered alongside the precious family heirloom.

He didn't get up.

Sly watched all of this unfold from the closet, through a tiny crack where he had opened the door. He saw another silhouette, an alligator, walk past the closet and head up the stairs.

"Find it!" a mechnical voice yelled, though Sly couldn't see who the voice belonged to. "Find the book!" The panda complied, and was joined by a frog in his search. They started destroying everything: they tore up sofa cushions, they ripped up the carpet, and they started smashing photo frames. Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream was heard from upstairs, then a chilling silence. The alligator returned from upstairs, without saying anything about what had happened: she didn't need to.

"I've found it!" the frog declared, revealing the safe to his cohorts that was previously hidden behind a photograph of Sly beaming while holding his parents' hands.

"Can you open it?" the panda asked.

"Of course I can." The frog worked his magic and crack the safe open. He reached in and and grabbed the item within it. He raised it high for his companions to see. Sly couldn't believe it: they found the _Thievius Raccoonus_! _His_ book! The five intruders huddled around the book, and each tore a handful of pages, until the book was stripped to its cover. The frog discarded it on the floor, and the gang made themselves scarce. One by one, they filtered out the front door, the door itself splintered and barely hanging on to its hinges.

Sly stood where he was for a few minutes, listening to the deafening silence filling the house. Slowly, he inched open the closet door, and edged out into the hallway. Broken glass, and bits of splintered wood were scattered across the length of the hallway. Silently sobbing, he made his way over to his still father.

"Daddy?" he whimpered. No response. "Daddy?!" he cried, sinking down to his father, shaking him. "Please wake up, Daddy!"

Silence.

He began weeping once the reality of what had happened began to sink in. He curled up against his father, wailing in anguish.

Then the young raccoon got up to his feet and absent-mindedly wandered to the house phone. He picked the receiver off the hook and punched in three numbers. He heard a dial tone, then another, before the line connected.

"911, what's your emergency?" a man answered in a monotone voice.

"Um..." was all Sly could muster. The man registered it was a child's voice on the other end.

"What's wrong little guy? Are your parents around?" he asked soothingly.

"They're dead." Sly replied flatly, tears streaming down his face.

* * *

 **10 years later, Paris, 4:20am.**

It was quiet in the large city, with the exception of the whistling of the gentle breeze, and the odd dog barking. Everything was dark, with the exception of a few windows being illuminated by their occupants' decision to turn a light on. The large, round moon loomed over the city, casting its pale light across the rooftops, making the Eiffel Tower's silhouette appear dark and menacing.

On one rooftop, a raccoon with a blue shirt, hat, gloves and shoes, a red backpack, and holding a question mark-shaped cane scampered across. He effortlessly leaped down to an adjacent rooftop, landing without losing his momentum. He continued across the rooftop, only to see a chimney in his path. He couldn't afford to slow down out of fear of missing his jump. As he neared the chimney, he swung his cane, only to reduce it to a pile of bricks. With his obstruction out of the way, he did a forward somersault off the building. The wind whistled in his ears as he gracefully landed on a ledge a few metres below the rooftop he leapt off of.

Upon realising the edge was too narrow to walk along, he hastily pinned himself to the wall, before carefully side-stepping along it. Once he reached the edge of the building, he peeked around the corner to see a bright neon sign with 'Le Police' lighting up the block. With a tremendous leap, the raccoon landed on top of the sign before launching off of it onto another rooftop, which had a small watertower, and a ramp leading up to it.

Unsure of how to proceed, he pulled a small device out of his backpack and found that he was already being contacted. He answered the device.

"Sly! Come in!" a nasally voice rang out from the device. "Sly! Do you read me?" Sly winced at the volume his friend, a turtle, was yelling at.

"Yeah, I read you," the raccoon replied with a smooth, sultry voice. "Loud... and very loud."

"Sorry," the turtle said sheepishly. "I'm a little nervous. Trying to break into police headquarters does that."

"Get over it, Bentley," Sly irritably replied. "You're safe in the van. I'm the thief here. I've got to steal that file from Inspector Carmelita Fox."

"Well count on me to be your eyes and ears buddy," Bentley reassured. "Got their security system totally scoped. To get inside, you're gonna have to go through that air vent."

"Alright, I'm going in."

"And don't forget you've got me at the wheel, Sly!" Another voice chirped up through Sly's earpiece. "All you got to do is grab the file and get back to the van. We'll do the rest.

"Just keep that engine running, Murray. I'll be down in no time." And with that, the connection was cut. Sly scanned his surroundings, trying to find a way up to the elevated air vent that was across from him. And he saw it. There were a series of large television aerials across the rooftop. Sly reckoned they would take his weight. But even they were too high to jump up to. He saw a narrow ledge on the watertower, and figured he could inch himself around it without falling off.

He jumped off the platform he was stood on, and ran up the small ramp leading to the watertower. He pinned himself against the tower and moved to the right of it, ensuring his feet didn't slip. He kept moving until he reached a platform jutting away from the watertower, which was luckily within reach of the path of aerials he had decided he was going to use. He effortlessly landed on the first one, then sprung to the second, before launching again. He silently landed before the air vent Bentley had advised him to use. Unsure of how to take the vent cover off, the raccoon swung his cane, reducing it to small metal strips. He darted inside and followed it around to a small balcony within the vent system. He peered down over the railing and smirked confidently.

An intricate laser grid bounced between the walls of the shaft, all the way down. But Sly spotted a weak point- a ledge that the lasers didn't block. The raccoon stood on the railing of the balcony, and dropped down to the platform. He gazed down and saw _another_ ledge, identical to the one he was already on. Again, it didn't have lasers near it, so the raccoon jumped again. He looked behind him and couldn't believe his luck. Yet again, another unguarded ledge. This was too easy. The raccoon hopped down again, and once more.

At the base of the vent system was a small security device, which regulated the laser grid he had just nimbly bypassed. A single swing of his cane dealt with it. The metal grate that had previously blocked Sly from entering the main building slid into the floor. Sly quickly darted inside, took a left, and another left before being greeted with a bright red door. He knew this was Inspector Fox's office. He tried tugging on the handle, only to find it wouldn't budge.

 _Locked, of course_ , he thought, scanning his surroundings to find another way in. He felt a cool breeze ruffle his fur. He turned to his right, to spy an open window. He hopped outside, and looked down the side of the building. Surprisingly, and conveniently, Sly saw that Inspector Fox had left the window to her office open.

He pressed himself against the building, and edged his way towards to the open window. Once inside, he looked around Inspector Fox's office.

The desk had many books piled on top of it, and above it were two corkboards. The one directly above the desk had a map of the world pinned to it with many pieces of string looped around thumbtacks. The board to the right was plastered with pictures of Sly. He spied another corkboard near the door to the left, covered in photos of his team mates, Bentley and Murray.

To the right of the desk, was a large, hefty vault, which also had books piled on top of it. Sly remembered the combination Bentley had told him before leaving.

The turtle was a genius, and was able to hack the combination off of the police security mainframe with ease.

Sly dialed in the code: 937. Once he was done, he turned the the safe tumbler and pulled the door open. And there it was, sitting in the vault: his police file. He scooped it out of the vault and notified his team that he had found it.

"Nice job, you got it!" Murray said enthusiastically. "If you come through the fire escape, and head through the parking lot, we'll be waiting in the getaway van."

Sly tucked the file safely into his backpack, before producing his signature calling card, and delicately placing it in the vault. He saw the open window next to the vault, leading to the fire escape. He ventured outside, only to hear a cry from a Latino voice: "Criminal!"

From the next building over, Sly watched as the voice's owner sprung into view. A fox, with long, blue hair tied into a ponytail, blue jeans, boots, and a yellow jacket glared at the young thief, to which he smiled charmingly back at her.

"You foolish raccoon!" she reprimanded. "I've caught you red-handed."

"Ahh, Carmelita, I haven't seen you since I gave you the slip in Bombay."

"Which reminds me: you need to return the Fire Stone of India to its rightful owners," she snapped.

"Awh, and I was going to give it to you as a token of my-" He quickly trailed off as he noticed how beautiful the police officer looked with the weapon she was wielding. He lifted his cane up onto his shoulder. "Hey, you know, that bazooka really brings out the colour of your eyes: very fetching," he flirted.

The Inspector took no notice of his advances. "You think?" she asked. "This pistol packs a paralysing punch. You ought to try it, much snap you out of your crime spree."

"And give up our little rendevous?"

"Plenty of time for that once you're safely behind bars."

"Love to stick around and chat, but I just dropped by to pick up this case file. I think you've had it long enough." And with that, Sly bolted down the fire escape. Carmelita, who was slow to notice his sudden attempt of escape, opened fire, sending a lethal bolt of electricity towards the raccoon. But he was too fast, already a flight below her aim. The impact of her shock pistol round caused large pieces of metal to rain on the raccoon. He increased his pace, panting harder while doing so.

He dropped down to the parking lot, and spied the blue Cooper van waiting at the exit. Sly ducked and weaved through the cars, avoiding the shots Carmelita took at him. One stray round hit a parked police car, causing it to explode into a large orange ball of flame. He slid over the bonnet of the last car, and saw the van's back doors were already open. He charged towards the van, threw himself inside and slammed the doors.

"Drive!" Bentley yelled at Murray, who floored it. The van screeched away, much to Carmelita's frustration.

"You can't escape me, raccoon!" the fox screamed into the night air. She couldn't believe it, he had escaped again!

* * *

The gang were cheering as they drove back to the train car they used as a base of operations.

"Did you see me dodge those shock rounds?" Sly exclaimed.

"It was awesome!" Murray laughed, before turning onto the dirt road that led to their hideout. "And here we are, home free!" Murray parked up and cut the engine. The three of them stepped out of the van, and were about to head inside when they noticed a shape on the step of the train car.

"What is that?" Sly whispered. "Is it a sack?"

"I'm not sure," Bentley murmured. "It might be best if we go and have a closer look." The turtle slowly inched forward, trying to determine the mysterious shape that lay there. The night lighting meant they couldn't work out what it was. Bentley was about to take another step closer, when he noticed the shape move! He yelped in surprise.

"It moved, it _moved_!" he cried, frantically pointing at the shape. The trio didn't dare move closer to the weird shape, and kept their distance.

"Guys, this is getting ridiculous." Sly said, clearly frustrated. "I just want to go inside, and a weird shape by the door isn't going to stop me." He marched up the the shape, and closely inspected it.

He couldn't believe what he saw.

A young rabbit, with white fur and curly brown hair. She had two piercings, a nose ring in her left nostril, and a lip ring on the right side of her lip. The metal caught the glare of the moonlight. She was wearing a pair of torn jeans, a t-shirt, and a leather jacket. She was sitting there with her sparkling blue eyes wide open, with a vacant expression.

"Guys, this is a person," Sly said. "A girl."

"Then let's bring her inside, see if we can find out who she is," Bentley instructed.

* * *

The girl sat on a chair in the hideout, not reacting to anything the gang said or did. She just stared vacantly in front of her, and said nothing.

"So, here we have someone in our hideout, who we know nothing about," Bentley grumbled, slouching over his desk. "Not to mention, we've got to go to Wales to find the first portion of the _Thievius Raccoonus_."

"So what do we do with her?" Murray asked, chewing a mouthful of hotdog. "We can't just leave her in the street, she looks scared."

"But we can't just babysit her either," Sly complained, pacing around the train car in frustration.

"We're not leaving her in the hideout," Bentley argued, frantically shaking his head. Who knows where this woman came from? There was no way they were going to leave a complete stranger in their home for a couple of weeks.

"So what are we supposed to do with her?" Sly said, getting visibly angrier. He wasn't going to bring a complete stranger along on their mission. The mission Sly had waited for the last ten years to begin. He wasn't going to let this girl jeopardize it.

"We bring her with us, there's plently of room in the van."

"No. Way. I am not on babysitting duty!"

"I don't need babysitting," a female voice with an English accent piped up. The three men simultaneously turned around to face her. The vacant expression she previously had was replaced by an uneasy one. She had no idea where she was, or who these people were.

"Uh... hello," Bentley nervously chirped, dropping down from his desk and slowly walking over to their guest. "My name is Bentley, and this is Sly and Murray." He gestured towards his companions. "What's your name?"

The rabbit's brown furrowed in concentration, her eyes darting to various parts of the hideout. Sly and Murray exchanged looks, wondering why it was taking so long for her to say anything.

"I don't remember."


	2. A Stealthy Approach

The men looked at each other, and the rabbit, in silence for a minute until Bentley decided to speak up.

"Okay then. Do you know where you're from?" he gently asked. He couldn't even begin to imagine how freaked out she must be.

The rabbit's brown furrowed as she thought. "No."

Bentley raised an eyebrow in concern. "Well, judging from your accent, I think it's statistically probable you're from England. Any idea where?"

"I just said no," she replied irritably, her frown causing Bentley look away awkwardly. Watching the turtle's reaction, and the pang of guilt that accompanied it, softened the rabbit's scowl. "I'm sorry," she apologised. "I'm just a little stressed. I've literally just woken up in a field, and I have no idea who am I or what I'm doing here." She rubbed the back of her head, wincing slightly. "I must have had a good smack on the head, because my skull feels like it's going to split open."

"I understand," Bentley replied, offering a reassuring smile. "We can help you remember, but we also have a job to do."

"Then by all means, don't let me get in the way," the rabbit said, standing up from her seat, prepared to leave. "I can look after myself, memory or no memory. I'll come back later."

"What Bentley means," Sly spoke up, "is that we want you to come along while we help you figure everything out." He folded his arms over his chest as he spoke, giving the rabbit a small, warm smile. The rabbit couldn't believe her luck! Despite saying she could look after herself, she wasn't too fond of the idea of wandering in a strange place alone, without even knowing the tiniest scrap of information about herself.

The rabbit beamed. "Thank you." Nervously, she brushed the hair out of her face. "Thank you so much, guys. I'll try to not get in the way too much."

* * *

Bentley wasn't used to having someone in the back of the van with him, but it made a nice change. Even if his new companion couldn't even recall the smallest detail about herself, she took great interest in Sly and his gang.

"So you guys genuinely met at an orphange and stuck together ever since? For ten years?" she politely asked, trying to mask her disbelief.

"We have, and we've done so much cool stuff!" Murray replied, concentrating on his driving.

"I always thought that people eventually grow apart from their childhood friends," the rabbit pondered. "I mean, everyone changes as they grow up."

"We're family," Bentley corrected, adjusting his bowtie. "And family stick together."

"That's cute," the rabbit said, causing the poor turtle to blush slightly. He wasn't used to being around female company, typically spending his childhood with Sly and Murray, or by himself, engrossed in some hacking attempt or a book. The tough appearance the rabbit had made him nervous, and was unsure of how to act around her. The piercings didn't help much either. She was so mysterious, and she terrified him.

"I wish I remembered my family," she whispered sadly, ears drooping.

"You soon will," Bentley said, looking up at her. They made eye contact, which lingered for a split second too long. Dougie felt herself blush slightly before turning away.

 _Get a grip Dougie!_ she scolded herself. _He doesn't even know your name. You don't even know your own name! Surely he doesn't like you!  
_

"Any idea of what your name is... Miss?" Sly asked, turning around to peer into the back of the van.

"Miss?" Bentley queried disapprovingly. "Really?"

"What else can I call her?" Sly replied with a little laugh. "Rabbit' isn't exactly personalised." He looked over to their amnesiac guest. "Anything?"

"Nope," she replied, shrugging. "I was just thinking that if I say 'Hi, my name is' at random moments, it'll just slip out, like muscle memory."

"That might just work!" Bentley exclaimed. "Give it a try."

The rabbit nervously looked at the turtle, then at the raccoon, and then back to the turtle. "Okay, here goes..." she murmured, and cleared her throat. "Hi, my name is..." she said, with an accompanying hand gesture, as if she was trying to prompt her brain to remember her own name. She waited for a couple of seconds, before pathetically waving her hand.

"Try it again," Bentley encouraged, tilting his head slightly as he watched her.

"Okay..." The rabbit nodded, face filled with concern. How could you _not_ remember your own name? It was driving her insane!

 _I will remember my name_ , she thought, _I must remember!_

"Hi, my name is... drat!" she yelled, burying her head in her hands. This was so frustrating! "Hi, my name is... no! Hi, my name is... ugh!"

"Concentrate," Bentley said soothingly. "You'll get it. Just take a deep breath and let your name slip out. It's probably on the tip of your tongue."

The rabbit followed his instructions, and took a deep breath.

"Hi, my name is... Dougie," she said, her face dropping upon realising what she had achieved. "That's it, Dougie!" Her face broke out into a grin, clearly pleased with herself.

"Dougie?" Bentley questioned, his brow furrowing slightly. "Any idea what it's short for?"

"I don't know," she shrugged, "I just remember people calling me Dougie. I don't know why."

"Well, it's a start," Bentley declared. "But a good start, Dougie. You'll have your memory back before you know it!" Bentley was itching to get access to an internet connection so he could begin researching effective methods of memory restoration, as he was confident he could help.

"Cheers," she smiled. "But right now, I have a splitting headache, so I'm going to try and sleep it off." And with that, she lay down, and shut her eyes.

* * *

Murray swerved the van around and parked up, ready for Sly to hop out through the back doors. The sudden movement of the van jerked Dougie awake.

"Five more minutes..." She murmured, before reluctantly sitting up. Sly climbed over his seat and scooped up his bag, which was sat beside Dougie, and slung it around his shoulders. The raccoon checked that his backpack was secure, before grabbing his cane.

"You ready for this?" Bentley asked his friend.

"Born ready," the raccoon replied confidently, adjusting his cap. He looked down at the rabbit. "Dougie."

"Yes?" she said, the first time she'd spoken in hours, and the croaky quality of her voice reflected that.

"Look after Bentley for me, he's a bit of a worrier," Sly joked, much to Bentley's chagrin.

She laughed. "Aye aye Cap'n!" she returned with a mock salute.

"I am not a worrier!" the turtle protested, scowling at Sly. The raccoon winked at the rabbit before opening to van door and leaping outside, only to be hit with fine rain and a chilly breeze. He grimaced, feeling the water soak through to his skin. He quickly eyed a small tunnel and dashed inside it, grateful for the shelter it provided. He pushed his way through, only to emerge near the entrance of Raleigh's fortress.

The raccoon scanned his surroundings. The entrance to the fortress was barred by a large, reinforced gate, covered in spikes. The smaller metal fences to each side of the gate were also topped with spikes. _Looks like I'm not going to climb over the old-fashioned way_ , Sly thought, eyes searching for another way in. And then he saw it: a ladder. He scurried over to it, and lifted his leg onto one of the rungs. He zipped up the ladder, which led up to a wooden platform surrounding a large lantern. He then hopped down onto the grass below.

He was in. He viewed the area ahead of him, and noticed there were two searchlights drifting across the courtyard. He watched the pattern, and saw there was a small window of opportunity where he could pass undetected. The window opened again, and the raccoon sprinted, not wasting a moment to double-check his timing. Sly slowed down and leaned against a stone statue of a frog with a large top hat to catch his breath. The wind had picked up slightly, threatening to blow his blue cap off his head.

The thief was about to press forward when he saw a silhouette in the distance. Quickly, he darted back to the cover of the statue and pressed himself against it. He carefully peeked from behind his cover, and saw a lone guard patrolling the edge of the courtyard. Sly smirked to himself. He knew how to deal with this guy. The guard was pacing back and forth, not really paying attention to his surroundings. When his back was turned, Sly dashed up to him, and swung his cane down on the walrus' head. The guard collapsed like a sack of flour.

"Sweet dreams," Sly said to the unconscious guard, before moving on. He followed the path, which gradually ascended. Once he reached the peak of this small hill, his breath was taken away by what he saw. Raleigh's 'fortress' was on a wrecked ship, but that was not the incredible part. Hovering above the ship was a weird, metallic-blimp thing. Sly had no idea what to make of this.

 _Maybe Bentley might know_ , the raccoon thought, getting his binocucom out of his backpack.

* * *

Bentley's binocucom beeped within the van.

"What's that?" Dougie asked, sitting up. She'd been lying in the back of the van, concentrating on trying to remember anything about her. So far, she'd had no luck. All she could remember was her nickname - not even her full name - and a silly little video game joke, originating from a faded childhood memory she could barely call her own. The frustration gnawed at the pit of her stomach.

"That's Sly," Bentley replied. "He's trying to contact me." He established the feed and saw an image of Raleigh's hideout. He quickly tweaked a few knobs and buttons on another nearby device in the van, which was about the same size as a bucket. A red outline appeared around the blimp on Sly's binocucom feed.

"According to my Amphibio-Positioning System, that big blimp is where Raleigh is hiding out," Bentley informed Sly.

"You know, that blimp looks more like a machine than a hideout," Sly responded.

"You're right, Sly. That is a storm machine! It's the reason why it never stops raining around here."

"That explains all the wrecked ships."

"But why would Raleigh want bad weather at his own hideout twenty-four-seven?" Bentley wondered.

"Beats me, but rain or shine, I'm going to steal my family's book back. And if Raleigh gets in my way, it's on."

The feed stopped.

"Amphibio-Positioning?" Dougie asked, pulling a face. "You can't be serious."

Bentley couldn't help but crack a smile. The rabbit was right, it did sound a bit ridiculous. "I'm serious, and it works with a 95% success rate."

"So, what now?" Dougie asked, still nursing her sore head. She was dying to get some ice on it. Whatever happened, she was counting herself lucky her skull wasn't cracked.

"We wait," Bentley replied. "I monitor Sly's progress and contact him if there's important information he needs."

"Like, when to jump and press the circle button?" Dougie cracked with a small smirk. Bentley looked at her blankly.

"What are you even talking about?" Bentley asked, puzzled expression on his face.

"Oh nothing," Dougie replied, still grinning. "Just a little snippet I remember from a video game I played as a kid. Nerd humour, don't mind me."

Bentley continued staring at her, unsure of how to respond.

"But I'm remembering things. That's a good sign, right?" Dougie asked.

"A very good sign." Bentley replied.

* * *

Sly saw a sturdy iron gate blocking his way. It was too high to jump over, and too slippery to climb, as the metal was slick with rainwater. He looked around the area, trying to find anything he could use to tackle this obstacle. He spied a pipe feeding between the two large cliffs that surrounded him. Hanging off the pipe was a solitary hook.

 _Could I_ _...?_

The raccoon leapt up to the hook and swung his cane round. The sound of clashing metal confirmed he had timed his swing correctly, and the thief felt a pull in his right arm, where he was holding onto his cane, dangling in the air. He shifted his weight forward, causing himself to swing forwards. He then shifted his weight behind him, swinging back, gradually gaining momentum. He swung forward again, before unhooking his cane. He sailed through the air, and over the gate, landing softly on his feet. He picked himself up before moving onward.

* * *

"Welp, I'm bored," Dougie declared, before sitting up and making her way to the back of the van.

"Where are you going?" Bentley asked.

"To stretch my legs, and see the sights." she replied, opening the rear doors and stepping out into the storm outside. She felt the chilling rain pelt her face, but it was something she found quite soothing. She stretched her arms in the air, in an attempt to relieve the stiffness she was experiencing from lounging in the van.

Bentley... that turtle was certainly something. He was... cute. He was very smart, and despite her memory loss, Dougie found she could follow a lot of what he was talking about. And he was very kind; he was the reason she was in Wales, instead of wandering the streets of Paris alone. She was grateful for his decision. She sighed. Once she figured out who she was, she would have to go her own way. But she didn't want to. There was something about this group of friends that pulled her in. There was Sly, who was a joker, and always kept cool and confident. As far as Dougie was concerned, Murray was an absolute sweetheart, a big softie who wouldn't hurt a fly. His enthusiasm for helping his friends was heartwarming.

But she had taken an instant liking to Bentley, but she had no idea what it was that was making her feel this way.

 _I like him,_ she thought, _but do I_ like _him?_

She angrily sighed. She had enough problems to deal with.

"Dougie!" Bentley's nasally voice rang out from the van. "Get back in here, you'll catch a cold!"

She smiled. _There he is, keeping an eye on me again._ She wandered back to the van, where Bentley was talking through his binocucom again.

"Sly's made it into Raleigh's fortress," Bentley said proudly.

"Nice one," Dougie replied with a smile and a thumbs-up. Soon, they would have the first few pages of the Thievius Raccoonus, and Dougie was beginning to like this thieving lifestyle.

 _Maybe this could work_ , she thought.


	3. The Eye Of The Storm

Raleigh's fortress was somewhat impressive. The fact that it was a wooden ship made Sly wonder how the frog had acquired it. It was probably stolen, seized from a fellow pirate captain. Sly wondered what had happened to the crew, and then suddenly wished he hadn't: he didn't want to think about it. He shuddered as he shook the vile thought from his head. For now, he had to focus on the task at hand; getting on board.

The raccoon looked over to the left, and saw a wooden beam with a yellow hook suspended from it. He ran to the wooden walkway surrounding it and peered down. It was quite a drop, but there was a small platform at the bottom. Sly didn't fancy breaking his legs, so he reached out for the hook with his left hand, grabbed it, and pulled it towards him. A cord followed after it.

 _Perfect_ , the raccoon thought, attaching his cane to the hook. Securely holding onto his cane, Sly stepped off the wooden walkway, allowing himself to steadily descend. As his feet brushed a rock, he unhooked his cane and dropped down silently. He looked ahead, and luckily for him, there was a makeshift path all ready for him, consisting of boat and plane parts, floating in the still sea. This was ideal, considering the raccoon couldn't even keep himself afloat, let alone swim. The orphanage he grew up at was never able to provide swimming lessons for the children, so Sly knew that if he fell in, he would sink like a rock.

 _So don't fall in_ , he thought, before leaping onto the first plane part, outstretching his arms to steady himself. It wobbled slightly, threatening to sink under the raccoon's weight, before going still. Sly let out a sigh of relief before throwing his weight into the second plane part. The sea water had made its surface slick, causing Sly's left leg to give beneath him, the sole of his boot making a loud _squeak_. Luckily, the plucky raccoon was able to regain his balance, stumbling back to his feet, before launching to the final two floating pieces, leaping between them like stepping stones, not giving them a chance to give beneath him.

He finally leapt onto a wooden boat, and collapsed within it, laying sprawled out on his back. "That was too close," he panted, feeling the rain water tumble onto him from above. Once he had caught his breath, he sat up and used his cane to help himself up. Sly wiped the sweat that was forming on his brow, adjusted his hat, and jumped onto a broken rope dangling from the ship to the little rowing boat, which was used to lower the rowing boat into the water, and started climbing.

He reached a wooden platform, let go of the rope, and collapsed on top of it, exhausted, but grateful for the rain lashing onto him, cooling off slightly. As he picked himself up, he looked around Raleigh's fortress, trying to regain his breath. This lair seemed... odd. Sly was certain he had just climbed onto a wooden ship, yet he was seeing various windows and rooftops as far as his eye could see. He scratched the back of his head with his free hand, unsure of what to make of this. There was even a water fountain a few metres away!

"What kind of pirate ship has a _water fountain_?" questioned Dougie through Sly's earpiece.

"I see Bentley hooked you up," Sly returned.

"That's right," Bentley said, "and now to find Raleigh. You see that high-voltage power tube to your right, a little distance away?"

Sly looked to his right, and saw a small tunnel-like opening, with sparks of electricity dancing across it. "I see it."

"You'll need to go through there," Bentley instructed.

"Woah, hold up!" Sly protested, not believing what his friend was trying to get him to do. "If I go through that, I'll get fried!"

"I don't mean while it's still live!" Bentley said, slightly irritated. Sly could hear Dougie laughing over the comm link. "Next to it is a power generator, you have to take that out first!"

Sly hopped over the large pipe and ran over to the power tube. "Oh," he said sheepishly, "now I see it. Thanks for the help, Bentley." And with that, the connection was cut. He looked at the power generator, which was violently rattling and vibrating. It looked like it was struggling to run, and Sly was going to put it out of its misery. He lifted his cane, and swung as hard as he could at the power generator. The cane connected to the hunk of metal with a _clang_ , and with that, it ceased to move, falling silent. The crackling of electricty from the power tube halted too, allowing Sly to pass through unscathed.

As he emerged, he felt a grin creep on his face as his eyes fell onto a cannon. A real cannon!

"Now that's cool," Dougie said over the earpiece.

"I bet you could use that cannon to get up to Raleigh's storm machine," Bentley said warily.

"I get to shoot myself out of a cannon?" Sly asked. "Nice!"

"You're really scaring me man."

* * *

Dougie, although patched into the comm link between Murray, Bentley and Sly, and was using a tiny monitor to view Sly's binocucom feed, was nowhere near any of them. She took shelter from the pouring rain at the end of the tunnel Sly used to get to the front gates, which looked even more sinister as it grew darker. The wind howled, blowing her hair in all directions, while sending the spray of the rain straight into her face. She sat there, concentrating on recalling a memory, any memory, that could give her a better idea of who she is. Nothing came to mind, much to her dismay. She sighed sadly, before zipping up her leather jacket to try and ward off the chill.

Dougie... that was all she knew. A nickname was all she had to go on, and it was depressing.

She suddenly heard a symphony of car doors slamming from the distance, which caused her to raise her normally low-laying ears. That wasn't a naturally-occurring sound in Wales...

And then she saw it; a swarm of police officers surrounded Raleigh's gate. In charge was a fox with an athletic physique, with long blue hair, a yellow jacket and jeans. She ordered her men to begin breaking down the gate. Dougie quickly retreated further back into the tunnel, praying she hadn't been spotted.

"Uh... guys?" Dougie mumbled, her eyes glued to the action below.

"Yes?" Bentley and Sly chorused in unison.

"We have a situation here," she answered, her eyes darting from police officer to police officer. "Police are trying to storm the gate to Raleigh's fortress, and this fox is in charge, a woman."

"That's Inspector Carmelita Fox," Bentley informed the rabbit. "She works for Interpol, and she's been trying to chase us for years."

"Well, Sly had better wrap up what he's doing now, or she'll finally catch up with you guys," Dougie noted, the panic rising in her voice.

"She's right, Sly," Bentley said nervously, "you'd better get moving!"

* * *

Sly had finally managed to push the cannon so it was pointing at Raleigh's storm machine. The cannon was unbelievably heavy, and Sly began twisting it around as soon as Dougie said police were on the way. Now he needed something to light the fuse with before hopping inside. He swung his backpack off and opened it. He sifted through his collection of calling cards and his binocucom before finding a box of matches. He sighed briefly, unsure whether these would work or not. He closed his backpack and swung it back onto his shoulder, before retrieving a match from the box. He struck it on the strip on the box, and, to his delight, a small flame burst to life on the end of the small stick. He held it against the cannon's fuse, hoping it would ignite.

It did, and without hesistation, Sly dived into the cannon and closed the lid, and waited for the explosion. He wasn't sure what to expect from being fired from a cannon, but the young raccoon was not disappointed. The cannon fired Sly with a loud _boom_ , sending the thief flying through the air. Violently, the wind whistled in his ears, and he had to hold down his hat, which was threatening to blow off his head and vanish into the dark sea below.

As he neared the storm machine, he closed his eyes, bracing himself for impact. He crashed through the glass of Raleigh's blimp with relative ease, and landed on a small platform floating on the water. The room Sly found himself in was dimly lit, with a light bulb, the only light source in the room, surrounded by bees. Across the room, sat on a large, red throne, wearing a top hat made of metal, was the frog himself, Raleigh. The frog who cracked the safe to the Thievius Raccoonus, the frog who was the reason the Cooper family treasure was stolen ten years ago. Sly felt a small pang of rage creep inside of him upon recognising his foe, but maintained his calm demeanour.

"How delightful," the frog said, with a crisp, clear English accent. The accent startled Sly, especially as Dougie's speech, an accent he was more familiar with, wasn't as carefully pronounced as Raleigh's. "The only thing is..." Raleigh continued as he tapped his fingers together. Sly watched every movement the frog made with unease, not letting his guard down for a moment. "I hate unexpected guests!" the frog suddenly shrieked, making Sly jump out of his skin.

"Listen Raleigh," the young raccoon said threateningly, pointing his cane at his advesary, "wipe out my family and steal what's mine, you better expect company."

"Oh, I'm ever so sorry," Raleigh groaned sarcastically, wiping his forehead with his arm. "How sloppy of me not to finish the job. Obviously we should have snuffed you out as well. So without further ado, let me make amends, by, what..." He continued tapping his fingers together. "Bloating to gargantuan size, and squashing you like the insignificant bug that you are!" he yelled again.

"Bring it on," Sly said bravely.

Without hesitation, Raleigh flicked his long, slimy tongue towards a bee, catching it with ease. Once the frog registered he had caught the bee, he whipped his tongue back into his mouth at lightning speed. Suddenly, his small, frail body inflated, and poised before the young raccoon was a large, round and bloated frog. Sly's jaw dropped in disbelief.

"What the crap?" Dougie exclaimed over the comm link. "How is that possible?" Sly mentally agreed with her, while watching the grotesque form bounce between the many platforms floating in the room, rapidly catching up to the raccoon. He knew he needed to move. He quickly took a couple of steps and leaped to a platform to his right, trying to put some distance between him and the frog. He landed on the floating platform with ease, but Raleigh was hot on his heels. The frog landed on the platform with such a powerful force that tilted slightly, causing Sly to almost lose his balance and fall into the water. The determined raccoon steadied himself and kept running, diving onto another platform, rolling into a forward somersault as he landed. He quickly leaped back up onto his feet and started running. He was prepared to leap onto the next platform, when he registered that Raleigh's landing on the platform Sly was standing on seemed much, much lighter.

The raccoon stopped and turned around. He saw the frog had returned to his normal, deflated, frail state. Sly knew what he had to do. Without hesitation, Sly ran back towards the frog, and swung his cane at him as hard as he could. He felt the blow connect at Raleigh cried out in pain, and tumbled backwards off the platform and into the water.

"Blast it all!" the frog yelled as he bobbed on the water's surface. "You've beaten me!" Sly folded his arms triumphantly. "Well, gloat all you want, Sly Cooper," Raleigh continued, "you're no match for Muggshot, my villainous cohort in Utah. You will see. Mesa City is so well-guarded a snake couldn't slither in without setting off alarms." Raleigh then slumped forward in the water, and gurgled as he passed out.

Sly hopped from platform to platform, to reach Raleigh's throne. He had spotted earlier that there was a safe tumbler under the seat, and had a strong feeling that was where Raleigh was keeping his section of the Thievius Raccoonus. With a few quick twists of his wrist, Sly opened the safe, and pulled out a series of old, aged and yellowing pages. He felt a smile play on his lips, and a sense of pride fill his chest. He had done it! He began to read, but was interrupted by Bentley.

"Sly, Dougie's been following the police, and she says they're within sight of Raleigh's lair and the storm machine. You need to get out of there!"

* * *

Sly sprinted back to the van, with Dougie following close behind. The pair hopped inside, and collapsed on the seat beside Bentley.

"Let's go big guy!" Sly wheezed as he tried to catch his breath. Murray put the van into gear and began driving off. He swung the backpack off his shoulder, and produced the pages he had just stolen. He handed them to Bentley, who quickly scanned them.

"Rioichi Cooper," Bentley read aloud, "your ancestor from Fuedal Japan."

"Now that's really cool," Dougie chirped as she read over Bentley's shoulder. "You alright there Sly?" she asked, noting how worn out the raccoon looked. Sly looked up and nodded. He had removed his cap, which was now laying beside him, and was running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. "You cut that really fine Cooper," she laughed. Sly smiled in response.

"That's my style," he joked, wiping sweat from his brow.

"You did good though," she continued, leaning forward to gently pat his knee.

"Thanks," he replied bashfully, running his hand through his hair again.

"So where did Raleigh say his mate was?" Dougie asked as she fiddled with her lip ring.

"Mesa City," Bentley said. "We're going to the States."

"After we take some time off," Sly corrected. "What do you guys say to taking a trip to London?"

"London?" Dougie repeated, raising an eyebrow in confusion. She had the feeling she had said that name a lot during the unknown portion of her life. Suddenly a series of streets and shops sprung to mind, places she was awfully familiar with, yet somehow had been unable to remember them until this very moment.

"Something wrong?" Sly queried with a concerned expression.

Dougie looked blankly at Sly, before deciding to reveal what was on her mind. "I think I'm from there."


	4. London Love?

**_Sly Cooper And The Amnesiac Tag-Along_** **\- Chapter 4**

* * *

The last couple of weeks spent in England were fun for the four adults. Much to everyone's surprise, Dougie found she could act as a tour guide for certain parts of London, recognising some of the streets and remembering little snippets of trivia for the boys to listen to. She couldn't explain why she suddenly had this influx of information materialise in her brain but shrugged it off as mere memory recovery. While Sly and Murray nodded politely, Bentley was transfixed on every word she said, hastily scribbling everything down in the little notepad he carried with him.

They all particularly enjoyed exploring Westminster, especially when the 'lads' noticed Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament.

"Big Ben is commonly mistaken for the name of the clock tower," Dougie had said, "when it's actually the name of the bell itself." Bentley nodded in interest, while Murray wandered to a nearby hotdog stand, leaving the two alone to talk.

"So, what do you think of this place?" she asked, parking herself onto a nearby bench. Following her lead, Bentley sat down beside her.

"I think it's fascinating," he replied, pushing his glasses up his nose. The pair sat quietly, watching the traffic move sluggishly past them. While the sun was out, she couldn't help but notice how grey the sky looked. It was the pollution, no doubt. She wrinkled her nose at the thought as searched her jacket for her pack of cigarettes. She had discovered a crumpled pack in there on the drive down from Wales, where they had stopped off at a service station. As she placed one between her lips and was prepared to light it, Bentley had chased her out of the van, frantically waving his arms and yelling, "Out! Out! You are not smoking in here!" Laughing, Dougie had complied, and stepped outside to smoke.

She fumbled in her jacket for the new pack she had bought after reigniting her love of smoking and pulled out a cigarette. She placed it between her lips before pocketing the packet and retrieving her disposable lighter. For a split second, she looked at the turtle sat to her left to gauge his reaction to her smoking. He didn't seem to mind when it was outside, much to her relief. She didn't want to be chased halfway across London just to have a cigarette. His gaze was elsewhere, looking out at the River Thames, and she felt a small smile play on her lips. _I definitely like him_ , she thought as she lit her cigarette and inhaled, savouring the burning sensation in her lungs.

Dougie thought the turtle was cute. He was exceptionally smart, often explaining things to Dougie whenever she asked about them. He was a fantastic teacher and she had slowly pieced together a rudimentary knowledge of hacking and RC piloting. She was also surprised to discover he was researching into demolitions. And he was super nerdy, which Dougie found endearing. Yep, she definitely had a type: brilliant nerd. Except this Brainiac possessed an air of confidence many others lacked, clearly putting a lot of faith in his abilities, which pulled her in, hook, line, and sinker. She wondered if he felt the same about her. _Probably not_ , she thought.

"Fascinating in what way?" she asked as she held the burning cigarette between her fingers.

"London is one of those places you see a lot," he replied, looking up at Dougie. "It's always on TV and in films, and to be here in person is quite spectacular."

"I'll say." Dougie took another drag before speaking again. "Then again, I did grow up here. At least, I'm pretty sure I did."

Bentley offered a small smile. "We could look at some public records while we're here. We could find out where you're from and who your parents are," he suggested, pushing his glasses up his nose again. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to lose his memory, but he concluded that it would be quite unnerving - terrifying, even. He felt bad that he and the others had spent the last two weeks goofing off in London instead of helping the rabbit out. However, he had noticed that Dougie didn't seem to mind in the slightest, instead getting engaged with what the guys were doing.

"Nah," she replied dismissively, "I feel like I don't want to know everything yet." Dougie felt it would be best to leave it until this was all over. She didn't want to be a distraction to what was clearly an important task for the Cooper Gang. But once the Thievius Raccoonus was restored, then what? She would pack up, say goodbye, and leave? _No thank you_ , she thought grumpily. She really didn't want to leave this little crew. Maybe if she was helpful enough during their quest, they might let her stay...

 _Hm... now there's an idea_.

"Besides," she continued, "for all you guys know, I could have been a cop before." The colour drained from Bentley's face and he tensed apprehensively. He hadn't considered that. Dougie gave a small chuckle. "I'm kidding!" she said, grinning. "But I like hanging out with you guys. Whatever I did before definitely can't beat this."

She trailed off as Murray wandered back towards them, munching his hotdog as he walked along. "This is so good!" he said between bites.

"You really were hungry, huh?" Dougie asked, dropping her cigarette, and crushing it underfoot. Murray nodded in response, not pausing to breathe. "Say, where did Sly go?" she pondered, scanning her surroundings. She couldn't recall when she last saw him (maybe thirty, forty minutes ago?), as if he had decided to slink off on his own.

A suave voice spoke from behind her. "Right here."

"Bloody hell!" Dougie yelped, jumping out of her skin, and launching out of her seat. "Don't sneak up on me like that!" She scowled at him, folding her arms in annoyance.

The raccoon chuckled while he apologised, and the rabbit's softened expression suggested that she forgave him. He sat down on the bench beside Bentley, squishing turtle and rabbit up close. The pair looked at each other, accidentally making eye contact which lingered for a split second too long, like in the van, again. Feeling her face burning, her eyes snapped away from Bentley's, hoping no one else had noticed her reaction. She didn't dare look up to check out of fear of the others noticing her blushing, instead awkwardly staring at her feet until she felt the heat subside from her face.

"So, I had an idea," Sly spoke up, with the suspicious-looking smirk he always had whenever he had a plan.

Bentley felt a knot of dread tighten in his stomach upon noticing _that smirk_ and felt he should ask anyway. "What is it this time?" he asked with a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagging.

"Two words: Buckingham Palace."

"You're insane!" Dougie yelped, her head snapping from her shoes to the raccoon. "You honestly don't think you can pull that off, do you?"

"Not alone," he said modestly. "But with the help from you guys, absolutely. Waddaya say?"

Dougie felt her mouth hang open in disbelief. He looked down at the turtle who was shaking her head, and asked him, "Bentley, is this normal behaviour?"

"For him it is," Bentley replied weakly. "And let me guess, you disappeared to scope the place out?"

"Yeah," Sly replied proudly, a smile of joy flickering on his lips.

"Well, I'm impressed he made it two weeks without swiping anything," Dougie admitted, tugging on her lip ring. "I guess this little excursion can't hurt." She stood up and turned to face Sly. "Alright Cooper, I'm in."

"Nice!" he chirped, his small smile blossoming into a fully-fledged grin.

Bentley sighed loudly. "I guess someone has to create a plan and stop you two from doing this the reckless way. I'm in."

Both raccoon and rabbit cheered, giving each other a high-five. The raucous celebration attracted the attention of Murray, who had been way too engrossed in his food throughout the entire exchange and hadn't heard a single word.

"What are we cheering for?" he asked curiously.

"We've got a little heist to pull off," Dougie replied, carefully ensuring her voice had dropped to a low whisper. After all, they didn't want anyone to overhear them and spoil their fun before it had even begun. "You in?"

He nodded enthusiastically, his face breaking into a huge grin. "Of course I'm in!"

"Alright" the devious raccoon said with a slight chuckle. "Let's go."

* * *

Bentley couldn't believe this was Sly's escape plan: having Murray, Bentley, and Dougie distract the palace guards by acting like common tourists. Based on some of his ideas and tactics, the raccoon behaved as if he wanted to get arrested! For now, Bentley had to shove his disbelief and protest to one side and concentrate at the job at hand.

Murray and Dougie tentatively approached the one guard who was standing outside the gate. There were no other guards in sight. The pelican guard's eye contact remained, endlessly staring straight ahead. The pair stood on either side, posing, while Bentley poised his disposable camera, the only thing they could find at such short notice, and snapped a few shots. In between each shot, he wound the film, subtly watching Sly scamper across the rooftop of Buckingham Palace. He had a large sack slung over his shoulder, which was altering his balance as he ran.

Once Bentley was satisfied that Sly was in the clear, he summoned for the rabbit and the hippo to follow. As the trio walked down the pavement, they all felt an uncontrollable grin grow on their faces, which developed into raucous laughter. They had done it! Dougie took a pace ahead of the men, spun on her heel, and held up both of her hands, gesturing for a high-five from each. They complied, before laughing even harder.

With Dougie walking backwards, and neither Murray nor Bentley paying attention to where they were walking, they didn't see the police officer approaching. They also didn't expect Dougie to back straight into him.

"I'm sorry!" she squeaked, feeling the Labrador's eyes burn into hers as she recovered her balance.

"You should watch where you're walking around here," he reprimanded. "It's busy."

Dougie didn't know what to do other than nod. Bentley apologised on her behalf, allowing the police officer to register his accent.

"You're American?" he asked, warmth slowly entering his voice. "Where are you guys from?"

Bentley and Murray stated where they came from. Dougie didn't dare speak, which the dog noticed.

"And you, Miss?" he pressed.

Without hesitation, Dougie spoke, surprising the thieves. "Noo Yawk." Out of nowhere, the abrasive twang to her London accent had been fully and completely replaced by a convincing Queens accent.

"That's neat," the cop replied, nodding his head. "Enjoy your holiday." And with that, he walked past them, continuing his rounds.

"You have a good day!" Dougie called after him with a little wave, the Queens accent still intact. As she lowered her upright arm, she noticed Bentley and Murray staring at her, jaws open in disbelief. She switched back to her native accent. "What?" she asked defensively.

"Where did that come from?" Bentley asked, unable to comprehend what he heard.

"Shut up, I panicked," she replied abruptly, a scowl growing on her face.

"You misunderstand me," he continued. "That accent was flawless."

The scowl softened. "For real?"

"Yes."

A bashful smile crept on the face on the flattered rabbit, her cheeks flushing a subtle shade of pink. After a tiny, nervous chuckle, Dougie said, "Thanks Bentley."

"Don't mention it," he replied, smiling back, mentally noting how she reacted to the compliment. From what the turtle could tell, she seemed to have a thing for him, which he took as a complement. As far as Bentley was aware, no one had previously shown any interest in him. This change was quite refreshing.

As they turned into a small alley way, they found the thief with the large sack slung over his shoulder.

"What took you so long?" Sly asked, nudging the brim of his cap upwards in a confident manner.

"I bumped into a police officer," Dougie confessed, brushing a lock of curly hair out of her face.

"She does an impressive Queens accent," Bentley praised, looking up at the rabbit and beaming. She responded by waving away the compliment with a hand while feeling her face burn up.

"It was a really good accent," Murray followed up. "You should have been there, Sly."

"Thanks, big guy," Dougie said with a large, uncontrollable grin plastered across her face.

"Accents, huh?" Sly said. "That could come in handy."

"Accent," she quickly corrected. "As in, one. Don't get the wrong idea Sly, I'm not multi-talented."

* * *

As the gang drove across the United States en route to Utah, Dougie was sat in the back of the van, reading a paperback novel she had purchased while back in France. Naturally, the book was in French and Bentley was surprised to see how quickly she was ploughing through the novel. Finally, he decided to speak up.

"So, Dougie, you speak French?" he highlighted nervously.

She looked up from her book. "I guess I do," she replied as-a-matter-of-factly. "I don't know how, but I can just understand it with no difficulty."

"So, you're fluent in French?"

"Seems that way."

"Impressive."

"Is it?"

"Bilingualism is, yes."

"Neat." And with that, she returned to reading.

The downplaying of compliments rubbed Bentley the wrong way however, and in a brief movement of bravery, he decided to challenge this. "You know, you don't have to be so nonchalant about it, Dougie. It's an impressive skill that not everyone possesses, and I was simply saying that I find it impressive," Bentley said, clearly disgruntled. He shoved his glasses back up his nose as they had been slipping down his face during his animated rant.

"Look mate," Dougie replied wearily, closing her book, and tossing it to one side. "I've recently been finding that I can do various things, yet I don't know where I learned them. It's stressful enough not knowing a thing about myself, and being asked where I learned every little skill is driving me kind of crazy, alright?"

Bentley pursed his lips. Guiltily, he apologised. Dougie said she was sorry too and that she shouldn't have snapped at him.

"Are we cool?" the rabbit asked, offering an outstretched hand.

"Of course," he replied with a small smile, taking the hand. The pair shook, yet neither of them wanted to release the handshake. It was when Bentley reluctantly released Dougie's hand that he felt a small flutter in his chest. A small, fleeting thought crossed his mind.

 _I like her_.

He then suddenly realised what this meant for the gang. A love interest, an individual that potentially tears friends apart, a distraction.

 _Drat_.

* * *

 **Welp, it's been a while since I've updated this. I've been pretty busy with a lot of stuff recently, so I'm glad I've finally got something published after so long. As per usual, let me know what you think! So far we're at 2 favourites and 3 alerts which is super neat. Those individuals know who they are - thank you!**

 **Until next time,**

 **~TWRSB**


	5. The Descent into a Suicidal Wager Race

**_Sly Cooper and The Amnesiac Tag-Along_** **\- Chapter Five - The Descent into a Suicidal Wager Race**

* * *

As Murray swung the van around, Sly was mentally preparing himself for the rocky road that lay ahead. Before him was a new task, a fresh opportunity to prove himself, yet again, that he was worthy of his family name. Although wary of facing the steroid-fuelled hound, he felt a new confidence slowly begin to develop within him.

"Go get him, Cooper," Dougie said with a warm smile.

"That's the plan," Sly replied, adjusting his cap before opening the back doors of the van.

"And even though you don't need it," she continued, brushing the hair from her face, "good luck, mate."

"Thanks Dougie." And with that, he scampered out of the van. A large gate towered over the tiny raccoon, with 'Mesa City' written above it in neon tubing. Running along the right-hand side of the gate was a severely crooked pipe. Knowing that it was his only way in, he gripped his cane between his teeth and scrambled up the pipe. As soon as Sly reached the top of the gate, he leapt off the pipe and landed on the platform which was most likely used for security purposes, most likely as a watch post, once upon a time. He looked ahead and saw what he initially thought was a junkyard, until he realised that it was the main road into the heart of Mesa City. The breeze that ruffled his fur felt like a ghoul whispering in his ear, intrusive and uncomfortable. Something didn't seem right.

He heard his binocucom beep and proceeded to fish it out of his backpack.

"Hey Sly!" Bentley greeted. "I thought you said Mesa City was going to be loud and busy. This looks more like a ghost town!"

"Something's happened," Sly observed. "Where is everyone?"

"I don't know but it's starting to give me the creeps. What do you say we take off?"

"No way, Bentley," Dougie interrupted. "We've come all this way and I don't think anyone will be happy if we leave empty-handed."

"You make a good point," Bentley replied sheepishly, embarrassed by his brief moment of cowardice.

"Just crack on, Sly," she continued, "we'll find out what's happened soon enough." The binocucom monitor went black. Sly put the gadget away and spied a string of lights, each with a narrow point on top. It was lucky for Sly (and unlucky for Muggshot) that the portion of the Thievius Raccoonus Raleigh had was authored by Rioichi Cooper.

Having read it thoroughly, the eighteen-year-old knew just what to do. He sprinted towards the edge of the platform and leapt into the air, focusing his concentration onto the tiny landing zone he had targeted. As he descended upon the limited point, the cable flexed beneath the sudden addition of Sly's weight, before springing up to its normal altitude. As Sly adjusted his balance to ensure he didn't plummet to the ground below, he felt a large grin begin to creep over his face. He had done it! His first spire jump!

"Well done Sly!" said Bentley through the raccoon's earpiece.

"Nice one, buddy!" added the rabbit.

"Thanks," Sly quickly replied, his focus on the task at hand.

 _Time to move_ , he thought, before pressing on ahead.

* * *

"I have a bad feeling about this," Bentley murmured apprehensively as he wrung his hands together.

Dougie cocked her head to one side. "Don't take this the wrong way but I get the vibe that you always have a bad feeling about everything," she said delicately. A knot formed in her stomach as she watched Bentley wince in response. That was not what she intended.

"I suppose you're right."

"You guys are new to this, aren't you?" she asked, quickly scratching her small, pink nose.

"We've done a few jobs before, but this is something entirely new for us," Bentley admitted, staring at his feet.

"It shows. I get that this is new and scary and frankly terrifying but look at how well you guys did in Wales. You really held your own." She paused to lean forward towards the turtle. "You guys have got this."

"Th-thanks..." Bentley said bashfully, unsure of what to do with himself. He gazed up at the sweet girl's face, which was beaming back at him. After a few seconds, he watched a flush of pink begin to slowly emerge on her face, before feeling a similar heat on his own. In a quick attempt to distract herself, Dougie took a quick sip from some bottled water lying about in the van. She grimaced.

"Eugh," she said, examining the bottle. "That's warm."

"Uh, Dougie?" Murray enquired from the front, having noticed what Dougie was drinking.

"Yeah?"

"That water's been open for months."

"Eugh!"

* * *

The raccoon prepared himself to swing his family heirloom as the tied-up bulldog frantically charged at Sly. As the dog prepared to chomp down on its thieving raccoon snack, its head connected with the metallic curve of the Cooper Family cane with a satisfying _clang_. The dog's eyes rolled as it slumped to the ground, motionless. Sly breathed out a heavy sigh of relief. He wasn't ready to be dog chow today.

He gazed up a small shack with a green roof yet couldn't spy any pipes or ladders to help climb up there. A dead end. Beside the unconscious dog sat a mattress, which Sly tested with his foot. It seemed incredibly springy, which gave him an idea. He jumped onto the discarded mattress, which launched him over and onto the target roof, causing him to roll as he landed. He clambered to his feet and saw that the road had collapsed in front of him, becoming a waterway instead. He strongly suspected that Muggshot's goons were responsible for this deliberate damage.

To his right was a metallic chimney with a pipe running up along it. Placing his cane in his mouth, the teenager clambered up the pipe. He took a quick look ahead to see that he could swing from a small, rubber ring that was hanging from a cable. Carefully considering how he was going to do this, Sly used his feet to push himself away from the pipe, smoothly removing his cane from his mouth as he did so.

Using every ounce of strength in his arm, Sly heaved his cane towards the rubber ring, hoping he had aimed well enough for it to hook in. The reassuring pull in his shoulder said that he had, and the thief dangled in the air while breathing a sigh of relief. He had to keep moving. He shifted his weight backwards and then forwards in order to make himself swing from his cane. Once he had gained enough momentum, he detached the cane and landed softly on the edge of the demolished road.

A few metres in front of him was another dog, sleeping, tied to a post and blissfully unaware of the ring-tailed snack before it. The uncomfortable proximity to the snoozing canine caused Sly to feel a prickly heat emerge under his collar. Not daring to breathe, he slowly inched his way past the dog, using slow, delicate steps. Under the blue shirt, more prickling sensations radiated across the raccoon's body as he tip-toed past.

Unbeknownst to him, lying on the pavement beneath the raccoon's booted foot, was a small, thin twig. The sturdy sole crushed the stick as Sly placed his foot down.

 _Snap_.

The raccoon froze. He stopped breathing and didn't dare move a muscle as he watched his canine opponent snort in its sleep. Was that just a snort? Or was it stirring? He felt a bead of sweat run his face and build at the end of his nose. He watched the dog shuffle again, slowly, as rising from its snooze, while trying to ignore the burning desire to wipe the drop of salt water from his face tickling his nose. It was agony.

Finally, the dog rolled away from Sly as it sunk into a deeper slumber. Slowly, Sly released the breath he had been holding through his nose, while wiping the salt water drop from his face with a gloved hand. Sweet relief! He tiptoed, at a slightly quicker pace, to the wooden fence blocking the road ahead and scrambled over it.

* * *

Dougie had chosen the large rock by the main Mesa City gates to sit and smoke, a habit that she was quickly falling slave to. Now that she was outside, she too could feel that something was off with this place. It was too quiet: all you could hear was the occasional whistle of the wind. It felt unnatural and it sent a chill down Dougie's spine.

The last few weeks had been interesting for the rabbit. She had been whisked up in this whirlwind world of Robin Hood-esque thievery and that was all she knew. To her, her life was a blank canvas. She needed to take the time to concentrate and now was the perfect opportunity. She took a deep drag as she tried to recall the major details of her life.

 _Parents? No idea,_ she thought, exhaling slowly. _Siblings... no idea. Childhood home? I got nothing._

Angrily, she sighed, throwing away the cigarette and burying her face in her hands. "This is hopeless!" she groaned.

"What's hopeless?" a voice asked, causing the rabbit's head to snap up.

"Murray," she said, her frown fading, "I didn't realise you were here."

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, sitting beside her on the rock.

She was reluctant to answer, staring at the dusty ground instead. "I guess so," was her response.

"It didn't sound like it," the hippo noted, unconvinced.

"I can't remember jack, you know that," she replied grumpily, shuffling on the rock. "It's driving me mad."

"We haven't forgotten. We can help you," Murray offered. "Once we've got Sly's family book back, we will help you with whatever you want."

The rabbit turned to look at her pink companion. "For real?"

"Of course, we all agreed when you went out to smoke."

A small smile opened up on Dougie's face. "I love how you say it like it's an isolated event," she pointed with a small laugh. "Let's be real here, the habit's taken over my life."

"Have you thought about quitting?" Murray offered.

"How dare you!" she squeaked with mock-seriousness.

* * *

Sly was getting sick of these dogs. Standing atop a small, rocky plateau, Sly spied two of them were tied up ahead, gnawing at bones. Below him was a wrecked car on its side which was his only way down. The daring raccoon hopped down, the metallic _clang_ ringing as his boots hit the car door. The dogs didn't look up.

 _Good_ , Sly thought, creeping up towards them. He was going to slip past them. At least, that was the plan. Looking ahead, he saw that he didn't have many options. There wasn't anything he could climb on and he couldn't see a way of accessing the roof to the derelict building to his right. Disgruntled, he hung back, trying to think of a plan. He needed a decoy, but he didn't have one. As Sly scratched his head, one of the bulldog's looked up. In a frantic moment of sheer disbelief, the dog's eyes widened, its squat frame leaping to action. With several deep, boomy barks, it charged towards Sly, setting off its other flat-faced companion.

Sly watched in silently amusement as the dogs reached the end of their leashes and went flying back against the posts they were tied to, before getting an idea. Provided he stayed beyond the length of the leash, Sly could wind up the dogs all he wanted, and they wouldn't be able to hurt him. Unfortunately, the distance the dogs could travel meant that the path ahead was blocked: there was no way the thief could go ahead without getting munched on. Unless...

He had an idea.

* * *

While Sly thought through his plan, Murray was certain he had found a new friend in Dougie. The enigmatic rabbit was surprisingly quick-witted and entertaining considering she didn't have any anecdotes to tell the hippo. He found her interesting in a way that she always found a way to keep talking, constantly asking the getaway driver questions about his life. Murray appreciated the effort she was making but started to feel uncomfortable over how one-sided the conversation was getting.

He voiced his concerns: "I wish I could ask you questions, Dougie," he admitted, his pointed ears drooping slightly. "You seem like you would have some interesting stories."

"Well," she responded, flicking her hair out of her face, "once I know some, you'll be the first to know."

"Awesome!" he yelled as a large grin grew on his face. "I bet you have some great tales to tell," he continued and then added as an afterthought, "You seem like such a nice person."

Dougie rolled her eyes and waved the compliment away with a hand. "Thanks man. Here's hoping I can figure everything out."

* * *

It was time to move. The dumb dogs, who still hadn't tired of attempting to eat Sly, were still at the end of their leashes, snapping and snarling all the while. This was his opening. Taking a few steps backwards, the raccoon felt the nerves tickle at the pit of his stomach. He had only one shot at this and he couldn't afford to waste it. One wrong move would result in dinner time for the moronic mutts, who were so eager for the raccoon they were half-choking themselves.

Sly wasn't prepared to let that happen. He took a few slow, deep breaths to try and settle the fluttery feeling in his chest and some small hops to psych himself up. He then ran straight at the dogs. As he charged, he spied the two posts the dogs were tied to. The tops of them were flat and wide, which Sly concluded would be easy to spring between compared to the narrower points that required the more precise spire jump, a move he could only just about do.

He sprung off the ground and soared over the dogs, both of which were taken aback by the raccoon's sudden disappearance. Like a graceful dancer, Sly landed on the first of the posts, using his leg to launch himself towards the next one. He landed perfectly, propelling himself away from the dogs and towards a large metallic stretch of ground. Unfortunately, Sly had pushed off the second post too hard, causing him to fly closer to the ground than originally desired.

In a last-ditch attempt to counter the poor trajectory, Sly went along with the fall, rolling over his shoulder as he landed on the ground. There was one factor Sly hadn't considered in his plan, given that he had been so preoccupied with the dogs - the car crusher ahead. As Sly was mid-somersault and was looking upwards at the crusher, he saw it come toppling down towards him. Uselessly, he stared at the large metal plate, watching it come down, slowly, agonisingly, as if time had started to crawl.

He couldn't stop the sinking feeling of defeat from creeping into his brain. Was this the end? Sly and the gang had barely progressed with their quest to stop the Fiendish Five and retrieve the Thievius Raccoonus, but the fact that he had retrieved one section had filled the young thief with confidence. He believed that he, with the help of his friends, could defeat them all and reclaim his family book.

Not anymore. He had underestimated how far he needed to jump because he had completely forgotten about the crusher. Now here it was, metres from his face and crawling closer, as if to say 'you forgot about me, here I am'.

This was it. This was the end.

* * *

"Here's a thought," Dougie said, everyone sat in the van again. Bentley and Murray looked up at the rabbit, waiting for her to continue. She stretched her arms over her head, in an attempt to relieve the stiffness she was experiencing from spending a hefty amount of time in the van. "Maybe we should move from here. If Carmelita is on our tails, which I strongly suspect she will be, then she'll find us here."

"Agreed," Bentley responded, rubbing his chin. "We'd be sitting ducks."

"She seems to like going to main gates," she joked. "If we go elsewhere we can give Sly an easier route to extract," Dougie continued, breaking out her packet of cigarettes again. She popped open the packet and examined its contents. Deciding on which cigarette to pick out, she elaborated on her reasoning. "Getting out of Wales was a little tight for my liking. If Sly wasn't as athletic as he is, then getting out would have been impossible."

"I know where we can go," Murray offered, his stomach giving him an idea.

"Where?" Bentley and Dougie asked simultaneously.

"I saw a hotdog stand as we were driving here. It's close to Muggshot's place but it means Sly has a different way out."

Dougie cracked a smile. "Hungry, pal?"

"Starving."

"Then let's get moving."

Without needing to be told twice, Murray pulled off, making his way back town the rocky, unsteady, and lethal path they had navigated before. As the van rumbled along, Dougie couldn't help but voice what she was thinking. "I hope Sly's okay," she said with a hint of concern in her voice. "We haven't heard from him in a while."

"This place is a junkyard. Literally," a suave voice piped up over the comms link.

"Speak of the devil," she laughed, "how are you, mate?"

"I'm getting through this place," he replied, "but it's challenging. It looks as if this place has been left to fall apart. What about you guys?"

Bentley took over from Dougie, saying, "Fine. We're moving from the front gate."

"Why? Did something happen?"

"No, but Dougie pointed out that Carmelita would be able to find us, and Murray thinks he knows someplace better."

"Where?" Sly asked.

"Nearby hotdog stand on the other side of the city," Bentley said.

"And we're here!" the hippo eagerly declared, pulling up and parking the van. Excitedly, he sprung out of the van and ran up to the stand, only to be cut off by a suit-wearing Dobermann.

"Hey you," he said sharply, "we're racin' for a wager. You in?"

Murray looked back at his companions, who had only just managed to climb out of the back of the van. Dougie looked nervous, Bentley terrified. He turned back to the Dobermann. "What's the prize?" he asked, trying hard to mask the fear from his voice.

"We all pool in a few coins, winner walks away with the lot," the dog replied simply.

The hippo thought for a moment. He was an excellent driver, and with the prize money he could buy plenty of hotdogs. He needed to keep his energy up and he was starving! Murray found it difficult to turn this opportunity down. "I'm in," he responded, his facial expression determined.

Dougie and Bentley stared at each other in sheer terror, both unable to believe that Murray had accepted this race.

"It was nice knowing you, Bentley," Dougie said as she watched the colour drain from the turtle's face, "because I think we're gonna die."

* * *

 **It's been nearly two months since I last updated this and we're slowly ploughing through the game's plot! And this story's now at 4 favourites and 9 follows... crazy! Where did all you people come from?! I've never had such an influx of story interest between chapters before and this has blown me away! Thank you!**

 **You guys know the drill - if you're new to this and want to come along on this journey, follow/fav this story! And if you've been here for a little while, feel free to drop a review. Every bit of support helps!**

 **Until next time,**

 **Subtle.**


End file.
